My apartment is filled with people trying to recover from various adventures during last night. I might devote my summer to ice cream but the pigeon outside my window keeps cooing as if it any day. Nothing special, just a morning in a long row of mornings where it chooses to sit outside my balcony door and make sounds that makes me think of an old man having sex. There are few definite things around now, everything is swirling and changing as people come and go with airplanes and trains. And as my thoughts struggle to rest in one place, the sound of the morning pigeon reminds me that some things will continue day after day as if there was no difference between today and tomorrow. Unless I create a pigeon killing device of course.